


nailed it: sports time!

by screamlet



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Nailed It! (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nailed It! (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Players, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Everyone is Queer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18976060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet
Summary: “Welcome toNailed It: Sports Time!I’m your incredibly white host, Erik Johnson, and this is probably the best I can do with my only life on earth. With me, as always, is the babeliest pastry chef in all the land, Gabe Landeskog.”





	nailed it: sports time!

**Author's Note:**

> \+ this is an AU where EJ and gabe host a sports-and-pro-athletes themed spin off of NAILED IT, while the original NAILED IT exists and does its own thing  
> \+ less about the baking, more about the ~people  
> \+ i have watched too much of this show

**SEASON 1**

**EPISODE 1**

“All right, fuck,” EJ exhaled. “Who the _fuck_ said I could host a cooking show, _FUCK_ Gabe, why did you talk me into this?”

“Don’t talk to Gabe right now, his face is too red for talking,” Mikko hissed as he held a small desk fan in front of Gabe and blasted air directly into his face. “How are your _ears_ red? Are you dying?”

“Is it too late to wish I was?” Gabe asked. 

“I said your face is too red for talking so stop talking!” Mikko said. “Fuck! EJ, stop sweating!” Mikko leaned back and yelled, “I NEED TOUCH UPS ON EJ. HIS PORES WERE DESIGNED TO _RUIN_ MY LIFE.” 

“Same here,” EJ said. 

The new guy, Ryan, stumbled out of a uterus and directly into EJ’s face, touching up some of his makeup and reapplying setting spray like EJ was a polar ice cap and this would stop him from melting. No, he just had a really big forehead, and that was saying something with Gabe next to him. 

“You know, it’s real fucking hateful that you have to make me look good while you look like that,” EJ told Ryan. “I think it’d be cheaper if we just did a face transplant.”

“I’d still have to put setting spray on your face,” Ryan said.

“Ah, goddammit, there’s no winning,” EJ sighed.

They were filming the first episode of _Nailed It: Sports Time!_ and EJ had entered the blissful fugue state where he was ON and ready to host a show and charm the shit out of every person in the building, and he would do it without a _hint_ of shine on his giant fucking forehead. 

“Did you matte Gabe’s forehead, too, or is mine the only giant reflective surface banned from cable television?” EJ asked.

“It’s not too late to cover us in fondant,” Gabe said cheerfully.

Mikko clicked the fan off. “This is the best I can do for… all this,” he said, motioning to both their beaming, shit-eating expressions. “Put the fan under your desk and use it at every break. Stop being nervous! You’re getting red again!”

“There’s no hope for us, buddy, it’s okay, you did your best,” EJ said. “Hey, Nate? NATE! Where’s our guest judge?”

“His name is Colin and he’s right here,” Colin announced as he took his seat on EJ’s other side at the judges’ table. Ryan fluttered over to touch up his makeup, too, but there was a hunk of sandwich in their hunky guest judge’s mouth. 

“Are you eating the party sub?” EJ asked. “We’re about to eat like, ten cakes.”

“I need a protein layer before all that sugar,” Colin said.

“Shut up, you’re not even a chef,” EJ snapped. “They said we were having a comedian this week, not a fucking clown.”

“Just blew your load and the cameras aren’t even on,” Colin said. “This is why you couldn’t make it in comedy. Or acting. Or hockey. Or a relationship.”

Well, it wasn’t like Colin was _wrong_. 

Nate was calling places so EJ took a quick second to grab the mini desk fan between him and Gabe, turn it on, and scream into the wind. 

 

**EPISODE 3**

“Welcome to _Nailed It: Sports Time!_ I’m your incredibly white host, Erik Johnson, and this is probably the best I can do with my only life on earth. With me, as always, is the babeliest pastry chef in all the land, Gabe Landeskog.”

Gabe beamed his perfect fake teeth at EJ. How were his teeth _so_ much better than EJ’s fake teeth? Fuck hockey. Fuck Sweden. “You say that to all the pastry chefs who help you co-host baking competitions.”

“I do. I’m contractually obligated to introduce you, by name, once per episode, and you like it when I tell you you’re pretty.”

“It’s called honesty, EJ. I’m very pretty, everyone should know, it’s one of the foundational truths of our show and also… maybe baking?”

“Man, you’re the chef, how would I know?” EJ laughed. “Okay, enough of you. Joining us in the heated mixing bowl of desire this week is renowned cookie guy, Tyson Barrie, owner of T-Beauty’s.” EJ turned to Tyson with a little flourish of his hands. “So you’ve got like, ten of these upscale cookie shops now, and you sell and ship cookies all around the world, too. Do you need someone tall, handsome, and charming to like, narrate some marketing videos for you?”

“We’re always looking for talent,” Tyson agreed. “Is Gabe free?”

Tyson, Gabe, and their three athlete contestants burst out laughing, while EJ did his best to play the straight man, but it was no use. He laughed, too, and shook his head.

“I’ve somehow gotten burned _twice_ in three episodes already, like, literally burned picking up something hot that was just in an oven to help a dude out. That hurt like, a _thousand_ times worse. Wow. Let’s talk about our first challenge so I can update my resume behind the desk and our contestants can make a cookie or something.” 

The first challenge was always something quick: a cookie, a cupcake, pancakes, a cake pop, something small to get the contestants warmed up and familiar with how shit worked, like how mixers used electricity to mix things and ovens used heat to cook things. It was always a challenge.

Not that EJ blamed their amazing contestants for being hapless, since their contestant pool was made up mostly of retired professional players across various sports who didn’t run away screaming at the thought of putting on an apron and letting a crew of sarcastic queers gently tease them. Also, true to the original Netflix incarnation of the show, the hapless monstrosities were the point.

“So I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Tyson said. “But Todd is softening the butter by tucking it under his arm while he mixes the dry ingredients.”

“Dear Dad,” EJ began. “I hope you’re doing well. I just wanted to let you know that you paid thousands of dollars in educating me and sending me to hockey camps so that I would one day grow up to eat a cookie baked with armpit-temperature butter.”

“To be fair to Todd,” Gabe noted, “The recipe does say _softened_ to room temperature.”

“Hey, Gabe? _Gabe_? The butter was _softened_. It was _out_. It’s room temperature right now, Gabe!”

“So we can’t like, tell them they’re doing stuff wrong, right?” Tyson asked. “Because I want to jump over the table and help all of them.”

EJ laughed. “Don’t worry, that’ll go away in another five minutes. Then you’ll look your own death by raw dough right in the face and you’ll wonder if anything could truly save you.”

Simultaneously, Gabe and Tyson both leaned back in their seats so they could talk around EJ. 

“You understand, of course,” Gabe said. “EJ’s not an artist like we are.”

“Oh, that was obvious,” Tyson laughed. “You and me could take him, then run over there and help these guys bake some delicious cookies.”

“Don’t tempt me so much. I wouldn’t want to compromise the integrity of the competition.”

“You wouldn’t? Really? With eyes like yours, you look like you’ve only got one thing on your mind, and that’s ruining a little integrity right here.”

“HEY GUYS, look!” EJ yelled. “We’ve got ten minutes left and Trish forgot to turn on the oven! She’s going for the George Foreman Grill to bake her cookie! Why do we even _have_ that thing?”

 

**EPISODE 6**

The contestants on their season finale were cutting slices of their gym bag cake, literally a cake shaped like a half-opened gym bag with a small person celebrating next to it. One contestant had two or three layers of flat-ish cake heaped with dripping, melting buttercream; one had three layers of rice krispie treat blocks spray painted blue; one was several lumps of modeling chocolate because the contestant had thrown the actual, decent cake in the trash. 

“So I see we’ve all made some choices,” EJ said.

“Evan,” Gabe said very calmly, because he had seen this episode of _The Great British Bake Off_. “I can’t judge using cake standards on your submission, which is modeling chocolate shaped into some extremely censored words. You should have just offered us what you made.”

“I know, I know,” Evan sighed deeply. “But the buttercream was supposed to be kelly green and I went too far into forest green.”

EJ stared until he thought his eyes would fall out. Fortunately (?) they stayed in his skull.

“Now’s a great time for our comedian co-host to say literally anything,” EJ laughed.

Carl Soderberg, who according to Gabe was _extremely_ funny in Europe, looked blankly at both of them, the plate of thin cake with drippy buttercream almost totally devoured. “Was I supposed to be doing something? Like listening?”

“How do you still have room for cake?”

“The same way you still have room for bitterness in your soul.”

Gabe burst out laughing and leaned over to high five Carl. “Funniest man in Europe!“

Carl did not high five him back. 

“Gabe, declare a winner so I can fly home and cry on my dogs,” EJ said. “Nate, get the trophy. NATE! Where’s the trophy, Nate! I want to go home and I can’t without that trophy, Nate!”

 

* * *

 

**SEASON 2**

**EPISODE 1**

EJ’s turn at the hosts’ makeup area was done, but he was still sitting in the middle chair, scrolling through Instagram as he discussed salient points with Nate, their assistant director and on-air smolderingly hot whipping boy. 

“So they’re fucking, right?” EJ asked.

“I mean, if you think they are,” Nate said. “I’d wait for the skywriting to come through before getting too heated about it.”

“Nate, agree with me,” EJ whined.

“Is it so important to you that they’re fucking?”

EJ thought about it, then looked at Nate, then looked away because the wittiest thing that came to mind first was also a little too sad for that early in the day. 

“I mean, otherwise Gabe met Tyson at the same time I did and immediately took him on a whirlwind tropical vacation, like friends take all the time, and I wasn’t invited. So like. I hope it’s because they had to spend several sunlit days eating each other out and not, you know. That Gabe’s not my friend outside of this show anymore.”

“Of course he’s your friend, idiot,” Nate said. “You two pitched this stupid show together. You’ve known him for years. You think King Cookie’s gonna walk in and steal him away?”

“He did steal him, though!” EJ said. “Right to Cabo!”

“You know, you could invite people to go on a vacation with you,” Nate said. “Like, anytime you want to take an actual vacation.”

“Ugh, you and your logic.” EJ sighed, then looked at Nate again, making his eyes as big and vulnerable as he could manage. “You wanna vacation with me, Nate?”

“That depends—you gonna stop taking on shows and projects, then demanding or begging that I run them for you? I’d almost think you cared, since you don’t give me a minute’s rest all year, EJ.”

EJ swallowed because the joke had kind of run away from them, hadn’t it?

“Okay, but I’ve got one more idea for this man-on-the-street segment,” EJ protested.

Nate clapped him on the shoulder and offered him a tiny smile. “Gabe’s here for makeup and I’ve got a show to put together for you. See you out there.”

Nate wandered off, turning on the mic attached to his headset again and wandering off to issue all the soft-voiced demands that made their lives possible. EJ watched him go, Nate dressed in a tight black t-shirt and black jeans that, honestly, weren’t _necessary_ for their gig, so he was probably just doing it to torture EJ.

Before EJ’s drool could start dripping from his mouth, Gabe arrived, looking beaming and _happy_ , of all things. Mikko leaned over him and began inspecting Gabe’s face, summoning his helpers to make the most handsome man in the world just a little more handsome and dig the stake a little deeper into EJ’s self-esteem.

“Hey, Gabe,” EJ said as Gabe settled into the seat on EJ’s right. “You’re looking _very_ well-rested and tan. Is this suddenly your only job? Are you independently wealthy? Is all of this just a game to you?”

“Yes to all of them,” Gabe replied. “Did you have a good break, EJ? I saw you at the combine with a bunch of other hockey guys.”

“I should fucking hope you saw me at the NHL Combine with hockey guys.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Who’d you go tanning with, Gabe? I’ve seen that exact shade on another cottage cheese shade of gentleman in our acquaintance, you know. He might even be scheduled to be guest judging with us today.”

“Really?” Gabe asked. “Is it the same coconut-flavored La Croix gentleman who was on my flight last night and in my hotel room this morning?”

“Gabriel,” EJ gasped. “Gentlemen aren’t supposed to suck and tell.”

Gabe laughed and obediently shut up when Mikko told him to hold still while he worked magic on his also-beautiful laugh lines. 

Meanwhile, the La Croix fuckboy himself arrived for makeup in a flurry of fistbumps and finger guns. Tyson settled in to have something done to his dewy face and his stupid sunkissed hair, but he looked over and offered a fistbump to EJ, too.

“Good to see you again,” EJ said. “Gabe would say hello, but he’s laughed a criminal amount since the last time Mikko had time to work on him.”

“Don’t worry about Gabe, he’s said plenty to me already,” Tyson said. 

He leaned back a little in his seat, behind EJ, and yelled too loudly, “SUP, FUCKBUDDY.”

“Did you pick a dinner place yet?” Gabe asked.

“Ugh,” Tyson said as he settled in his seat again. “You believe this guy? Riding me all morning, now he’s riding me here.”

“Stop sexually harassing me. I don’t want to hear about your gross romantic escape, licking fondant out of each other’s assholes.”

“EJ, you tell me the difference between fondant and marzipan and I’ll never say another disgusting thing to you again,” Tyson said.

“Why would I do that? Just rob my world of color, why don’t you.”

 

**EPISODE 2**

“Here’s my actual favorite part of filming this show,” Gabe noted. 

The contestants were working on the second challenge in this episode: making Super Bowl cakes for their most hated teams. It was awesome to watch three hypercompetitive and territorial former athletes war between winning a challenge and creating something beautiful for a team/city they hated. There was a heated exchange of _FUCK BOSTON / NO FUCK YOU_ coming from Tim and Tom on either end of the workspaces, while Marty in the middle kept his head down and silently hated himself the way god intended. 

“I love that Nate is not only a director on each of these episodes,” Gabe continued, “But he’s also regularly summoned on camera so you can tease him and make him turn all red.”

“I don’t _summon_ him,” EJ lied. “He comes when I yell at him.”

Colin laughed. “That’s so much better than any joke we could have come up with. Good job, EJ.”

If EJ asked, Nate would have brought him another bottle of water and maybe, for a laugh, for the camera, pat him on the head. 

He didn’t ask. 

 

**EPISODE 4**

“Welcome to _Nailed It: Sports Time!_ I’m Erik Johnson and judging this show has made me lactose intolerant, so bring on the buttercream! With me is our babe with the power, pastry chef Gabe Landeskog, who is _way_ too nice to all of you.”

“Gordon Ramsay holds a trademark on yelling-while-cooking,” Gabe said a little sadly.

Their guest judge for the episode was a YouTube baker/personality known as The Big E-Z Baker, or just Big Z, who was a lot more grabby and fun than lots of their guest judges that season. Tyson came close, because he was turning out to be a very fun and tactile friend, even if he only got _really_ grabby for Gabe. Best to keep that shit contained, honestly. 

“This is so exciting,” Z said. “I taught myself how to bake like this. I used to play hockey in Russia, but then I got too hurt to play anymore and while I recovered, I was too bored at home. So I learned how to bake and it was _exactly_ like this.”

“God, I remember your early videos,” EJ cackled. “Your partner was the one filming, right? You could hear them muttering in the background, and the captions were like _If you ruin our backsplash, you’ll BECOME the backsplash, Nikita_.” 

“I knew people would love them more than me,” Z laughed. “As people should, because they are so much funnier than me. All I can do is put batter in pans and remember to turn on the oven.”

“What a good segue,” Gabe interrupted. “Because for the eighth time in ten episodes, guess what. Someone’s forgotten to turn on the oven.”

“Oh, god,” EJ moaned. “Maybe for next season we can get a big neon sign over our heads that screams TURN ON YOUR OVEN.”

“I didn’t think we would need it as often as we do,” Gabe said. 

“Please, let me yell at them to TURN ON THEIR OVEN,” Z yelled.

“Ah, fuck, there you go, you’ve compromised the blah blah blah,” EJ said with a little wave of his hand. “Contestants get really sad when we tell them it’s too raw for us to eat. It’s a real thing! Maybe I can ask Nate to whip us up a neon sign real quick. Nate? NATHAN.”

The three of them looked to the edge of the set, Nate’s perch when he wasn’t running around taking care of the million little things that came up during filming. 

“Nate? Are you _texting_? We’re putting on some real comic genius up here and you’re _texting_? Nate, I’ll forgive you if you can get us a neon sign for the next episode that says TURN ON YOUR OVEN. Whatever color works best for my complexion. I’m a spring, right?”

Nate stood up, cocked his hip and raised his eyebrows at EJ, then rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for _bitch we’re on a BUDGET_.

“What if you walk around behind us with a big poster board?” Gabe asked. “Like those girls at old timey boxing matches?”

Nate stared at Gabe.

“They sell tiny black shorts and tiny black tanks, if you’re worried about compromising The Look,” Gabe continued.

Nate stared at Gabe. 

“Anyway, Nate hates me,” Gabe said. “Back to my job.” 

EJ leaned back in his seat and drew a heart over his chest, then pointed at Nate. 

Nate chuckled and shook his head before he wandered off again. 

“All right, and time’s up!” EJ yelled. “Bakers, hide your disasters behind your presentation screens and get ready to tell us just how well you _nailed it_.”

“What if we totally failed it?” asked Colleen, one of the contestants.

“I see what you did there,” EJ said, “But there’s no failure on _Nailed It_. No matter what, you tried and we’re going to make very soft jokes about it.”

“EJ,” Gabe said. “Did you just… say something encouraging? And kind? On television?”

“Bite me, you’re more styling paste than man,” EJ replied. “Colleen, this doesn’t look a whole lot like a cake, but more like a mountain of Nilla wafers held together by buttercream and a prayer. Tell us about your process.”

 

**EPISODE 6**

“You know, if you wanted me to come to the Kentucky Derby with you, you could have asked,” Nate said. 

EJ huffed a little. “I mean, I’m not going for _fun_.”

Nate stared at him.

“Okay, I’m going for work, and I will have fun, but I thought—”

“I got a job in Nova Scotia for the summer,” Nate interrupted. “Filming some fishing village documentary. My first real director credit.”

“Okay, it’s not your first, I’ve seen your resume, you’ve directed tons of digital shorts and I know you’re only the AD here because I was really convincing about scalding my own face off with some kind of hot fudge if you didn’t stop me.”

“Our relationship is just a trail of broken promises,” Nate agreed. 

“Yeah, yeah, but seriously, man, congrats! That’s fucking awesome!”

“You could come with me,” Nate said. 

EJ blinked. 

“You… want me to?”

“I just asked, didn’t I?”

“You… did, yeah, you super did.”

EJ bit his lip, trying to sense any little chapped part that he could catch on, but then Nate put a hand on EJ’s chest and stopped him.

“Don’t do that,” Nate said. “Or I’m gonna have to get Mikko more of that stuff he uses to keep your lips from looking as rough as they should.”

“As they should?” EJ asked. 

“Uh. ‘Cause you bite them. Like. Kinda often.”

“Yeah,” EJ said. “It’s a bad habit.”

They stared at each other, Nate’s hand still on EJ’s chest. He curled his fingers against EJ’s shirt. EJ lifted his hand to cover Nate’s. One of them had to bridge the distance. One of them had to just—fucking do something. Why couldn’t it be EJ? What was he _waiting_ for?

EJ leaned in and kissed Nate, his other hand moving to the back of Nate’s head, tilting his face up as EJ leaned down. EJ opened his mouth as Nate did, too, the kiss heating up as suddenly as it had started, their tongues meeting briefly before the scuff of shoes outside EJ’s makeshift dressing room had them break apart. 

It was just some of the set dressers, the three-person team of JT-Josty-Kerf, wandering by and arguing about that episode’s theme and how to best rearrange the tchotchkes on the shelves behind the judges’ table. EJ watched over Nate’s shoulder, then looked back at Nate and pulled him close again. 

“So,” Nate said.

“Nova Scotia? You’re from there, right?” EJ asked. “Is it nice?”

“Yeah, man. It’s really nice. I think you’d like it. We like sports up there. You could pitch something, bring a crew, do it your fucking self, whatever. Or you could stick around my Airbnb all day and wait for me to come home and breathlessly ask me how my day went.”

“I’ll find something. Maybe I’ll work on that book proposal I’m always threatening to write,” EJ said. “And that breathless part, I think I can throw it in for free.” 

Nate laughed. They took another moment to listen for people, EJ keeping an eye on the door over Nate’s shoulder, and then he leaned in again to kiss Nate, this time with a hand on Nate’s waist, clutching at him and hoping Nate understood. He wanted this. They should do this. 

“Okay,” Nate said as he pulled away too soon. “Go get your face done. I gotta take some laps around the set and totally reevaluate my entire life.”

“Yeah, sounds like a Thursday,” EJ said. “I’ll… walk you out into the hall, like the damn fine gentleman I am.”

Nate rolled his eyes, but he was all red, his cheeks and his neck and every part EJ was going to learn about soon, so fucking soon.

 

**EPISODE 7**

“A holiday series?” EJ asked. “Where the hell did this come from? It’s really sudden. Our crew have contracts and shit, you know? Like, for other projects. We kinda planned our whole year around this. _I_ kinda planned my whole year around this.”

His agent shrugged at him aggressively. “Later in the summer, then. Cut your time on the horse race reporting circuit a few weeks short, film a special holiday series with Gabe. The show can always hire more crew.”

“Sure,” EJ said. “Sure. I’ll, uh. Talk it over with Gabe.”

“Gabe said—”

“I’ll talk it over, okay? And I have people in my life, you know? And plans? I’ll talk it over with them.”

His agent tilted his head. “Do you?”

EJ tried not to look as hurt as he was before he shifted into Host Mode. “We’ve got our last episode to film, so. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah, talk to Gabe and whoever you were going to blow at Saratoga this summer—”

“Dude! You’re my agent! What’s your fucking problem?”

“You are! I’m handing you a sack of cash, which you have always been _more_ than willing to accept so that we can split it, and suddenly you’re balking. You’re in your thirties, EJ. How long do you think this is going to last?”

“I have to think about it,” EJ repeated. “Could you head out of here so I can focus on earning us that last sack of cash for this season? Thanks.”

EJ took a breath and headed towards the set. He glanced to the side and there was Nate, in his usual perch, clicking the mic off on his headset. He had to sigh.

“You heard all that.”

“You gonna take it?” Nate asked.

“I don’t want to,” EJ admitted. “Especially not when they’re gonna scrape together a crew to do it and it’s not you. It’s not everyone here. And I don’t want to cut short, you know. Whatever we were gonna do. Can we talk about it?”

EJ, from past experience, expected to get an ultimatum, some sort of _well if it’s not clear right now I don’t see what talking further will clear up_.

Instead, Nate nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk about it. Also? Your agent’s an asshole. Has he always been an asshole?”

“Yeah, but he’s an effective asshole. A “gets me working enough to build a comfortable life” kind of asshole.”

“Still an asshole,” Nate said. “Gotta go. Break a leg. Don’t actually break a leg, I’ve heard your stupid golf cart story too many times to think it’s funny.”

“Aw, you care!” EJ joked. 

Nate shot him a look, then flicked his mic on again and disappeared backstage. 

 

* * *

 

**_NAILED IT: SPORTS TIME! ALL THE HOLIDAYS!_ **

**EPISODE 1**

“Welcome to _Nailed It: Sports Time!_ The _All the Holidays_ edition, because we have a surplus of puns and props and ‘tis the season to _extra_ mess with my intestines. I’m Erik Johnson and with me today is our pastry chef with the thiccest chest, Gabriel Barrie-Landeskog.” EJ turned to Gabe very, very slowly and tilted his head, beaming with real, if slightly manic, joy at Gabe. “Gabe, who postponed our fake holiday season until he got back from his whirlwind honey-drenched honeymoon, so congrats, pal!”

“A wedding outside of Leo season just isn’t worth having,” Gabe informed their contestants.

EJ agreed because he didn’t know what that meant, then turned back to the contestants. “And our guest judge today is—hey, what do you know, it’s Tyson Barrie-Landeskog! Tyson! Congratulations! Can I tell you how excited I am you snatched my buddy off the market?”

“Can I tell _you_ how excited I am that this episode is all about winter-themed weddings and I’m ready to eat all the icing in the world?” Tyson asked. “Bring it on! Make it good! I wanna feel some winter wonderland love in this house tonight!”

EJ genuinely laughed, and then launched into his spiel about the first challenge. 

Once they were back at the judges’ table, Tyson leaned in close to EJ. “Now that we’re back to Earth,” Tyson began, “Did I ever thank you for being a complete dick who egged us into getting married when we visited you guys in Nova Scotia?”

“What? Me? I had nothing to do with that.”

Tyson made a face.

“I mean, you guys were already like, halfway down the aisle, I just…” 

EJ made a face, too, because their brief summer was a blur: Nate looking insanely hot as he worked, and looking insanely hot when he came home every night to the place they were renting on the edge of town; standing barefoot at the edge of the cold as _fuck_ ocean, watching the moonlight glitter over the infinite expanse of water lapping at their ankles; EJ drawing way too much attention with his Instagram-exclusive (and eventually paid) fake documentary on the supernatural hockey properties of Cole Harbour, even netting an exclusive interview with former hockey prodigy Nathan MacKinnon while some local rando named Sidney Crosby grilled burgers over his shoulder with an Olympic gold medal hanging out of each of the back pockets of his jorts; Tyson and Gabe visiting them on their quest to bake and fuck their way around the world and deciding to get fucking _married_ at the local city hall after a couple of beers the night before and teary declarations of eternal love. 

Nate and EJ had stood behind them as their witnesses, glancing at each other, both of them a little desperate to just kiss each other and maybe never stop. Fuck breathing and working and baking and everything else stopping them from sharing those kisses that felt like they touched every cell in EJ’s body, and reverberated into every cell in Nate’s. 

“I just wanted a real summer,” EJ eventually said. “And I guess you guys did, too.”

“Your whole life just flashed in front of your eyes, huh?” Tyson asked. 

“Listen—shut up?” EJ rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the bakers. “It was a pretty good life.”

“Present tense, moron, you’re not dead yet.”

There was a click in EJ’s ear, in the earpiece he wore while filming every episode of the show and yet no one ever used because their set was basically a studio apartment with three colorfully-painted and easily swapped cardboard walls, and Nate could just wander through a shot and tell them to stop bullshitting. Honestly, EJ almost forgot he wore the damn thing.

“You and Tys have spent a quarter of the challenge not interacting with Gabe, or the contestants, or the show, so like—consider adjusting this approach to the show you’re hosting?”

“Hey Tys,” EJ said. “Go check out Katie’s station. I think she’s about to shove a metal tray into the microwave and I’m being informed that’s gonna be a Ho-ho-h’OSHA violation.” 

“You might be taking this theme a little too far,” Gabe said. 

There was a chuckle in EJ’s ear and a click, the white noise disappearing. EJ glanced off to the side and saw Nate just off set, talking to Josty and pointing out a bunch of things that Josty was going to have to handle during their break in filming. 

Nate caught EJ’s eye and smiled at him, this fucking coy little thing at the corner of his mouth that EJ had fallen in love with when he got to surprise Nate with dinner, or falling into bed and letting Nate pin him down with his body, or walking through town with him, casually holding hands, a couple of errands in mind with none of the rush to actually do them. 

Gabe leaned in and whispered, “Do you remember over the summer when you tried to bake Nate a cake and sprained your wrist rolling out fondant?”

“Nate sure does,” EJ laughed. “I give _great_ handjobs.”

“I’m sure he treasured the full-mouthed silence that followed.”

“Gabe,” EJ said loudly. “Can you go check on Chris? He seems to be having some trouble with… everything. Just. Literally everything. Chris? Are you okay?”

“Can I phone a supermarket to deliver some cake pops?” Chris called back.

“Oh, hold on, let me check with someone,” EJ said, jokingly holding his hand to his earpiece. “Yeah, no, that defeats the purpose of the cooking competition, so good luck on this level playing field, buddy! Fortunately, I’ve got a guy.” 

EJ shoved at Gabe as he was getting up, then stood up, too. “All right, Nancy, you want some help with your stuff? I’m completely useless but I can like, stand here and make small talk, shoot you some encouraging words or whatever.”

“I’m all right, but thank you,” Nancy said. “My wife bakes all sorts of stuff for our kids’ PTA bake sales and like, I sorta watch? This looks a lot like what she was doing.”

“Oh, for sure,” EJ lied. EJ turned and found a camera so he could give them a thumbs up and his biggest, fake toothiest grin. “Great job, Mrs. Nancy!”

As if to punish them for their hubris in tacking on an extra season of the show when they already had a “real” season 3 to film in a few weeks, the contestants’ results they had to taste test were particularly awful. They ranged from grainy buttercream to underbaked cake and cookies to just plain “I’ll add some flavoring and make my shit taste special” food crimes. 

They were bad enough that EJ started making faces at the camera whenever something new entered his mouth; he had thought he had moved beyond mugging for the camera years ago, but that was apparently not the case!

“I never ask this, and I’m sorry I’m gonna ruin a winter wedding theme with this,” EJ said. “NATE. I NEED THE BUCKET. YOU KNOW THE ONE.”

“Me too,” Tyson said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Guys, I think you need to replace the passion fruit flavoring in your pantry.”

Nate emerged from stage right with a bucket, festively decorated just for the occasion. Tyson and EJ politely turned aside to spit stuff out, and EJ stood up straight with an even bigger frown on his face because their dumb baking show had him spitting up cake into the bucket his boyfriend had backstage just for this occasion. 

“Nate, this is too much intimacy, I want to get off this ride,” EJ whined. 

Nate, in character, raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and handed him a napkin. He then moved on to Gabe, who decided to tough it out and let Tyson deal with whatever happened to his body later, now that they were Just Married and legally obliged to monitor each other through all sorts of food poisoning and digestive unpleasantness for as long as they both should live.

“Nate! I’m sorry you had to see me at my lowest point!” EJ called after him. “Nate, don’t leave me! I’m so vulnerable! Don’t let this turn you off from our winter wedding, Nate!”

In character, EJ stared offstage with a forlorn look while their contestants chuckled and Gabe sighed, deeply, because he didn’t understand their love. 

Nate poked his head out, within sight of the cameras, and looked at EJ, making a little cutting motion with his thumb across his throat. 

EJ nodded confidently and turned back to the contestants and Gabe and Tyson. “No worries, he still loves me. He’s still Nate.”

The show went on, like it always did. If EJ occasionally glanced off to either side, catching sight of Nate taking care of shit, taking care of _him_ and what they had together, well. It was a development EJ was more than happy to accept. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/screamlet) | [tumblr](https://screamlet.tumblr.com/post/185158060051/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] nailed it: sports time!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19537330) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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